I tried my hand at being spontaneous this weekend. Like one of those reckless kids who wind up having a lot of fun with a complete bunch of strangers in a new land.
I exaggerate.
I didn't wind up in a smokey room full of anonymous individuals making good time, I only ended up in a near stampede that really wasn't as scary as I am making it out to be.
I had just gone out on a lunch date with Mr. Ramesh where we decided to chill over a plate of chicken Xacuti and (oh my god!) steamed rice, along with an extremely ugly looking, tangy tasting, stuffed mackerel.
By the time we were done with lunch, it was almost 3.00 in the afternoon. The heat of the day and place was making me extremely drowsy. We decided to hop on to the ever dependant Activa and head back home to chill with our legs tucked under our respective buttocks in front of the TV. Just as we hit the main road, a bunch of boys looking like they had other plans, began jumping onto their own bikes and scooters, shouting in some indecipherable language. We shrugged it off and continued down the road. After just a few kilometers, we saw this horde of men parking their scooters on the road before springing off into an open field. On investigating further, we saw a group of about 300 men gathered in the open field amidst much excitement. Curious, we asked a gentleman, who appeared to be a little calmer than the rest of the men what the hullaballoo was all about.
I exaggerate.
I didn't wind up in a smokey room full of anonymous individuals making good time, I only ended up in a near stampede that really wasn't as scary as I am making it out to be.
I had just gone out on a lunch date with Mr. Ramesh where we decided to chill over a plate of chicken Xacuti and (oh my god!) steamed rice, along with an extremely ugly looking, tangy tasting, stuffed mackerel.
 |
| This scary looking mackerel from about town |
"Bull fight, bull fight."
Ooooo, something illegal. I admit, that was the first thought that came into my mind. We skittered to park the beloved Activa and see for ourselves what a bull fight looked like. Once in the field, I was surrounded by a sea of men, some holding betting money in their hand, some holding beers and cigarettes, each looking over the heads of other men in anticipation. Suddenly, there was a yelp, the air was abuzz with excitement. A few men were leading a bull into the arena. The curtain of people parted to make way for the bull and the men. Though I couldn't see very clearly, I could tell by the time it was taking the men to bring the bull to the front that the animal was showing much resistance. A similar scene was taking place at the other end of the field. The opponent bull looked much calmer and somehow, confident of its hulk and did not need much coaxing to be led to the centre of the field. Two men were washing the bull with water, for what purpose, I shall never know. Now, you have to understand that I am a tiny person of 5'4" and cannot see over the heads of grown men. However, when you are in a bull fight and you hear people scream "Run! It's coming!", you run.
Without looking back.
When I did, however, reach a safer location and look back, the animal was nowhere to be found, and people had begun to reassemble at the periphery of the field. After much insistence from me, Mr. Ramesh and I headed back to our spot. The bull was back in control of human idiocy and was being coaxed back to the battle ground. We, like others in the crowd were getting bored of all the waiting around and decided to head back on the road. I saw some money exchanging hands and sniggered because I had seen something obscene that was supposed to be unseen. As we got on to the Activa, all signs of sleep forgotten, I started yapping about how I wanted to blog again. Mr. Ramesh, thinking himself rather witty suggested I name this post Bhaag Bhains, Bhaag after the Bhaag DK Bose song. I responded a little sullenly that I couldn't really do that since I didn't actually know what had happened. In order to provide fodder for my post, we decided to ask someone. My first investigative piece, if you may. *smiley face*.
Our interview lasted 30 seconds.
"How often does the bull fight happen?"
"Very rarely."
"Is it planned?"
"No."
"How did so many people show up? How do you know it's happening?"
"Phone. Everybody comes."
"So may people with a phone call?!"
"Yes."
Man walks off.
We witnessed a bull fight that almost happened. I am not sure I would have liked it much if it had happened.
As the Great Bard once said, All's well as ends well, I conclude this lengthy one right here and bid you goodnight.
Adieu
Naina